He was travelling north on a boat, and the boat was full of people, all of whom were looking at him. There was something strange about the people in the boat, and he tried to work out what it was. They were cold-eyed, pale and motionless. They were corpses. This wasn’t a vision, he knew; this was a memory. He had travelled before as he travelled now, enchanted, in search of something, in search of her. But when? Were the Gnostics right? Was there a ladder of souls which we climb lifetime after lifetime towards heaven, reborn, striving towards perfection, touching a greater holiness and being reborn to do the same thing again? But he had not moved nearer to perfection in his lifetime. He had taken a step down the ladder. He knew the Gnostic heresy: the misdeeds of one life were punished in the next. He had been a cripple, hadn’t he, unable to move? And now he was strong and his limbs loose, what had he done with his freedom? He had moved away from heaven, feasted on flesh and been filled by lust.
Cling then, cling to faith. Lord, hear me. I have been a vile and troublesome man, undeserving of the release you have given me. Strike me down, Lord, let me suffer again. Make me as I was and vanquish this demon that grows inside me.
‘We’re not taking this thing out to sea?’ said Astarth.
‘Do I look stupid?’ said Ofaeti.
‘Yes,’ said the warriors as one, but Jehan couldn’t join in their humour; he could only think of the north, the pale girl who sat beside him, her cold hand in his, drawing him on to an unknown destiny.
As they went on, they attracted less attention. The Vikings had been defeated there two years before, their king had become a Christian and some had settled. Though youths taunted them and called them ice munchers and whale fuckers, they suffered no attack. At one village they even received a welcome of a sort. A girl of around eight thrust a garland of snowdrops into Ofaeti’s hand.
‘For the blessing of the crowman,’ she said, ‘the wizard of your people.’
‘We thought you all barbarians, but he saved my son from the fever,’ said a woman.
Jehan could scarcely take in what they meant. He couldn’t eat the food he was offered, though he tried to force it down. Chewing the bread was like eating a bandage, the meat of a cooked chicken like wet leather to his palate. He was not hungry, not yet, and he gave thanks to God for that.
They went on, into the flat lands, the river widening, the sky immense with a hollow blue light. When dusk came down, deep shadows fell across the river, but the water reflected the dying sun, and the faces and hands of the warriors seemed to glow in the copper light.
‘We’ll have to pick up a ship,’ said Fastarr.
‘All in the plan,’ said Ofaeti.
‘We have a plan?’ said Egil.
‘Oh yes,’ said Ofaeti.
‘Marvellous. Don’t tell me what it is — I don’t think I can bear the disappointment.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Ofaeti, tapping his nose. ‘The plan will remain secret to you even after you’ve executed it.’
‘As normal,’ said Egil.
‘As normal,’ said Ofaeti. ‘Can you sail, lord?’
Jehan said nothing.
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ said Ofaeti. ‘Is there a monastery near here, a nice juicy one?’
‘I will not lead you to slaughter,’ said Jehan.
‘Not what I’m looking for. Smell the air. It’s warmer, isn’t it? What’s that smell like to you, boys?’
‘Raiding season!’ they said as a man.
‘Right. The winter storms are past. Horda, Roga, Scylfing and every other seafaring man of the northern lands’ll be thinking the same. Anyone who’s not tied up in Paris or the Islands to the West will be down here, or some of them will. So where there’s a monastery, there will be a ship.’
‘I will not lead you to slaughter.’
‘Calm yourself. The pirates won’t be doing any slaughtering at the monasteries because the monks moved out years ago. The land’s barren for miles around and the people have come together into large villages that are well defended. The days of easy plunder are over, let me tell you that, my friend. The pirates will have a look, though, to check the locals haven’t moved back and that’s when we’ll approach them and ask them for their boat.’
‘But will they give it?’ said Astarth.
‘Willingly,’ said Ofaeti. ‘No one’s as willing as a dead man.’
At that each of the Vikings smirked and nodded. This, Jehan could see, was the sort of wit that impressed them, though it made the confessor feel ill.
The river was now wide and calm, opening into a large lake and then winding through low islands and marshes. There were few people about, just occasional fishermen who kept their distance. Then they saw, on a promontory of land, tall buildings, black against the oystershell sky.
‘What is that place, lord?’
‘A monastery. I do not know it,’ said Jehan. He was speaking the truth. His head was now heavy, his thoughts jumbled. It was as if he was watching himself without any conscious knowledge that he was controlling what he did or said.
They moored the boat and walked across the salt marshes to the buildings. Ofaeti was right. There was no one there. The place had been burned within the past year or so. The roofs were gone and no attempt had been made to replace them. Graves had been dug in the cemetery and the grass had not yet grown over them. There were signs that the monastery had been used for shelter over the winter, but whoever had been there had left, not wanting to fall victim to the raiders.
‘So what do we do now?’ said Astarth.
‘Wait,’ said Ofaeti. ‘We’ve got food for a few weeks, a nice sea full of fish. There’ll be vegetables and mussels along the coast. We just wait for our boat home.’
‘Ofaeti,’ said Fastarr, ‘when we go raiding we take five ships. That could be three hundred men.’
‘Well let’s hope it’s not,’ said Ofaeti. ‘Look, the siege at Paris is going badly and a few of the lads will be coming back empty-handed. I think they’ll have a look down the coast before they head home. It’ll probably be Scylfings because this is on their way home. They stop to have a look at the church; we walk about outside without our weapons, looking like monks; they run up from the ship; we come down the back of these dunes and steal their ship.’
‘With nine of us against a force of — how many? One, two, three hundred?’
‘We distract them,’ said Ofaeti. ‘Wander about with our hands together like monks. They see us, they’ll charge up like dogs after a hare.’
The pale girl at his side squeezed Jehan’s hand and he spoke. He didn’t know where the words came from but they seemed true to him. ‘You have to wait for the right ship.’
‘Lord, I’m not going to say no because it’s got a bear on the prow and I’d prefer a dragon,’ said Ofaeti.
‘You have to wait for the right ship.’
‘We’ll take the first ship we see,’ said Ofaeti.
‘You want the lady?’ said Jehan.
‘Which lady.’
‘The one you took at Paris.’
‘If we could find her. She’d be a rare gift for Helgi, wouldn’t she? It’s well known he covets her.’
‘Well, then you will wait for the right ship. Have I brought you fortune?’
‘You have, lord.’
‘Would you be Christ’s men?’
‘We would.’
‘Then heed my word and wait for the right ship.’
The Vikings looked at him strangely but Jehan wasn’t worried about them. He was certain of only two things. The first was that Aelis was near. The second was that he was becoming hungry.
The first boat to check the monastery was a battered Danish karvi, a tiny vessel with only sixteen oars. It was ideal, and Ofaeti had to work hard to restrain the Vikings. But then Jehan told them to leave it, and leave it they did. They had seen what he had done to the Burgundians and now his word was good enough for them.
